The Waltz of the Dead
by TheFeaturedCreature
Summary: Klaus Baudelaire is in a mental institution. No one knows what happened to him. Except his nurse. Memories of the past keep haunting him. Is he really insane?
1. Chapter 1

Waltz of the Dead

_Disclaimer: I don't own A Series of Unfortunate Events _

Chapter 1-All I've Known is the Unknown

Klaus Baudelaire stared outside. Outside, where the world was fine, where happy families roamed. Family. The very word singed his pale ear. Family. As in the family he had been forced to kill. His two sisters. Violet and Sunny. He was forced too. The gun had been pointed at his head, he had been lost for days. He had gone insane.

"Klaus?" the thin nurse came into his room with a large needle. Time for your next dosage, honey."

"I don't want to," Klaus said as the nurse unbuckled his strait jacket and grabbed one of his skinny arms.

"You have to, honey," the nurse said, injecting the needle into Klaus' arm. He blinked once. "There, that wasn't so bad."

"Easy for you to say," Klaus said. The nurse stared at him. She buckled up his strait jacket again. She looked at Klaus Baudelaire. She had read his file thousands upon thousands of times, enthralled with his information. According to the file he was a twenty year old man who was 5'4 and 121 punds. But that didn't matter to her. What mattered was his story. Why he was locked in the looney bin in the first place.

According to the file, Klaus had killed his two sisters with a kitchen knife and then had buried their remains in the back of a school. But they didn't know his real story. The one were he'd had a nervous breakdown and a woman had held a gun to his head and forced him.

Ever since the fire, Klaus had become a little neurotic, but after the island, Klaus had lost his mind. He would spend hours speaking to himself in the room he shared with his sisters. He talked about nonsensical things, but he also talked about serious things. What disturbed his sisters the most was that Klaus would sometimes have conversations with their mother, even though she had been dead for over three years. At night, he would scream and cry for no apparent reason.

The nurse stared at him from the door. She sighed ,"Klaus, if you ever need to talk to me, I'm here for you."

'No you're not," he muttered. "I have people to talk to already. You just can't see them."

"Klaus," the nurse said, getting frustrated. "They don't exist, Klaus. You're imagining them."

"They exist," he grumbled. "You'll see."

* * *

><p>Fiona grimaced at the stranger in her bed. Another night with yet <em>another<em> stranger. She'd never wanted to become a whore. She wanted to study fungai, but money wouldn't allow her to go to college. Her brother had been killed and she had been left all alone. This is what she'd become.

She longed for _him_. His cold, pale lips. His brown hair. Those grey eyes that he and his sisters had. Klaus Baudelaire. Maybe, just maybe, if she thought about him enough, she would be reunited with her love. Fiona began crying softly. The spirits of the past had always haunted her, but now they were antagonizing her. She wished she could get rid of them, she really did.

"Klaus," she whispered. "Klaus? Where are you? Come, please."

* * *

><p>Isadora Quagmire sat on her bed, writing in her journal. She had Author's Block again. Her brothers had gone to fight in the war and were both dead. They had kicked the bucket.<p>

"Screw this," Isadora said. "I need a drink." Isadora grabbed her coat and ran out into the rainy New York street. She missed Klaus. She hadn't gone to visit him in four years. Hell, she didn't even know where he was. Or if he was even alive.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2- The One Inside the Box is You

Fiona walked hastily. She was scared that another man might ask her for her services. She had put up with it enough. She was sick and tired. She had no idea where she would live, but she quit. This time, for good.

She walked down the dark alley that she'd walked down for years. But on this day, it felt more eerie than before. It felt colder, even darker, and she swore she could faintly hear a familiar voice. Her mother's sweet voice. Singing her favorite lullaby. Fiona's arms became covered in goosebumps as her mother's voice grew fainter, until it was nothing more than a sweet whisper.

"Mama?" Fiona whispered. The voice was gone. Fiona knew she had imagined it. But the voice she'd heard had sounded so _real_.

Fiona kept walking. She didn't know where she was walking to, only that she was running away from her problems. Like the coward she was. She pushed up her glasses higher onto her face. It was early dawn when Fiona came to the graveyard. It was a small one. She decided to go in. She hated graveyards, but she needed a moment to think. She read a tombstone. And another. But one caught her eye.

_Violet Samantha Baudelaire_

_Febuary 12, 1928- October 7, 1944_

_Loving daughter and sister_

Fiona couldn't believe her eyes. Violet Baudelaire was dead. What had happened to her? The beautiful, brown haired, slim girl that Fiona had utterly detested. Tears welled up in Fiona's eyes. Perhaps everyone had kicked the bucket. Even her beloved Klaus.

* * *

><p>The nurse sneaked into Klaus' room. It was well past midnight, but Klaus was awake. The young man never seemed to sleep. Only mutter nonsensical things to himself. He was sitting in his chair, staring outside at the rain. He was muttering something.<p>

"Klaus?" the nurse whispered. Klaus turned around to see the nurse. She looked even more pale in the darkness.

"What do you want?" Klaus said, staring into her brown eyes.

"Do you need something?" she said, trying to comfort him. Klaus shrugged and kept staring outside. He began muttering to himself. The doctor came in at that moment.

"What are you doing here Mary?" he asked the nurse, "It's way past the end of your shift."

"I was just checking on Klaus, Dr. Winters," Mary said. "I'll be leaving now." Mary's heels clicked as she left. Dr. Winters stared at Klaus, deep hatred in his eyes.

"Listen, you little piece of shit," Dr. Winters said. "Don't make Mary stay late for you. You're a little player, aren't you?"

"I know what you've done to her," Klaus said, his expression remaining the same. "She's so scared of you."

"You're an evil person, Klaus Baudelaire. You murdered your sisters."

Klaus' face got red, but he didn't say a word as Dr. Winters left the room. No one would ever know why Klaus Baudelaire had murdered his sisters.

* * *

><p>"There's a letter for you," Regina, Isadora's secretary, said. "It's on your desk."<p>

"Thanks Regina!" Isadora said, coming into her office. Isadora could not believe what she had become. A doctor. Of all the things in the world, Isadora never thought she would become a doctor. She hated her job, but she needed a way to make money. She'd always wanted to become a poet. She'd grown up with Emily Dickenson and Edgar Allan Poe and found their poems beautiful. Isadora had a natural gift for poetry. And she'd thrown it out the window just to become a doctor.

She opened the letter.

_Dear Miss. Quagmire,_

_My name is Dr. Winters. I have not met you before, but I know your name because a young man keeps talking about you. I work at a mental institution and a Klaus Baudelaire is here. He keeps talking about you and I'd like him to see you. I'd also like to know everything you know about him. Thank you,_

_Dr. Winters._

So Klaus was alive. But in an institution. Isadora stared at the letter. What had he done that had been so bad? Isadora pondered over the matter and stared out of the window, unknowingly staring at Klaus, who was staring back at her,like he'd done every day.


End file.
